


Striking Stones

by phalangine



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Historical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 21:42:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10930605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phalangine/pseuds/phalangine
Summary: Spock is a traveling merchant. Leonard is the god he picks up against his wishes.





	Striking Stones

There is nothing quite so strange to Spock as the countryside in this rural place. The grass is thick and lush, the earth covered on tall waves of it. The trees are tall and bear healthy, verdant leaves. The sky is a cheerful blue. Sunlight falls unhindered save by the trees.

It's a strange, empty place, and Spock, who grew up in the harsh heat of the North, instinctively doesn't trust it.

His wagon rattles over the "road" to the town. It's more of a trail than a road, but he knows better than to say as much.

Once, long ago, his mother lived in a town like the one he's heading to. A quiet, forgotten place with just corn and the animals for company. She said she liked it well enough. Just not as much as she loved his father. According to her, Sarek was strange and aloof- but she quickly found her way past the Northern reticence and found a man she would leave her comfortable life to follow.

Spock takes after his father far more than his mother. He looks like a Northerner and speaks like a Northerner. He dresses like a Northerner. He is, despite his peers' teasing, a Northerner.

He will be glad to be gone from this place.

 

**_xx_ **

 

He is compelled by local law to stay the night in the town in order to make his trades. No business can be conducted on the last day of the week, not even the charging for a room at the inn, so Spock is forced to dig up a blanket and curl up in the back of his wagon. He's slept there before, so it's no trouble, but he would have liked to be gone within the day.

It's as he's finally drifting off that he hears the singing.

It's a man's voice, low and sweet, but the words are unfamiliar. Strange- Spock had thought he was familiar with every language spoken in the areas of his business.

There's something compelling about the song. It makes him want to sit up and find the source of the sound.

He ignores that impulse. Nothing good can come of wandering away from the cart in the dead of night, and he clings hard to that knowledge as the song gets louder, the leaves rustling in the wind.

Slowly, it passes, the song and the rustling going quiet until they disappear.

After that, sleep is impossible.

 

**_xx_ **

 

He mentions the song to his first customer, an old woman looking for a new blanket. He isn't sure why he does it- plenty of strange things happen on the road. A song is hardly worth remembering. But mention it he does, and the old woman's face grows somber.

"That's the Doctor," she explains. "He's a harmless spirit- drank himself to death when his wife left him, you see, so now he patrols the woods, looking for other unhappy souls." She cocks her head. "From the sound of it, you caught his attention."

"But I am not unhappy."

"You sure?" She gives him sad smile. "He found me after my sons died in the war. I thought I was dealing just fine. Then I heard that song of his one night. He must have stood outside my window and sung to me for a week straight, from dusk till I finally fell asleep."

Spock shakes his head. He isn't certain he believes the old woman, but he doesn't begrudge her the peace she's found.

The rest of his dealings proceed without incident, and by the time he leaves, his bag is heavy with coin and his cart is nearly empty.

Not a bad trip, he decides. He may have to make this town a regular stop.

He buys a spot in the hotel for that night and falls asleep the moment his head hits the pillow.

 

**_xx_ **

 

He sets out the next morning just after dawn. The old woman from yesterday is there to see him off.

"Thank the Doctor for me if you see him," she says just before he swings into the seat.

Spock nods. He would bid her farewell more personally, but the hand gestures of the North are easily recognized and not always welcomed. He would rather not be chased out.

 

**_xx_ **

 

He's been on the road for nearly three hours when he hears rustling in the back of the cart. Tensing, he subtly lays a hand on the dagger at his hip, fingers closing around the handle.

"No need for that," comes an unfamiliar voice. "I'm no threat."

A moment later, a man vaults into the seat beside Spock. A naked man.

Spock blinks, taken aback. "Who are you?"

The man gives him a lopsided smile. "Name's McCoy, Leonard McCoy. The old woman probably called me the Doctor, though."

"Spirits don't exist."

"Indeed they don't. Gods on the other hand..."

Spock shakes his head. "Impossible."

"Yet here I am." The man- McCoy snaps his fingers, and suddenly Spock's mare changes from chestnut to white.

"Change her back," he snaps.

McCoy tilts his head, and the horse goes back to her natural color.

"Could you put pants on? " Spock asks, pointedly not looking down.

McCoy looks down at himself. "Ah." His face a riches for a moment before going blank. "It seems I can't. Huh."

"You changed my horse," Spock says slowly, "but you cannot magic yourself a pair of breeches?"

McCoy leans back and directs a flat glare at Spock. "My powers aren't magic," he says, folding his arms. "And no, I can't bring something into being as easily as I can transfigure something that already exists."

"But you can do it."

"If I trusted you not to dump my ass on the side of the road while I recovered, yes."

"I am not heartless."

"No, you're not," McCoy agrees. "Otherwise you wouldn't have heard me sing."

Oh. "Is there some magical-" McCoy's expression pinches "-that is, powerful reason for that?"

Expression smoothing, McCoy nods. "Of course there is."

"Of course," Spock echoes tonelessly.

McCoy sighs. "So you promise not to push me off the cart while I get some pants."

"I do."

"All right, then."

McCoy goes quiet and closes his eyes.

It lasts for at least half an hour. At least because half an hour is as long as Spock waits before he shoves McCoy off the seat.

 

**_xx_ **

 

McCoy pops up again an hour later.

He's still naked.

"You are still undressed," Spock observes.

"You," McCoy snaps, "are a liar."

"I don't know you. It was only logical that, once you demonstrated a weakness, I should use it in an attempt to get rid of you." Spock tilts his head. "Clearly, a push was insufficient."

"You could try kissing my ass."

"I doubt flattery will get you to leave. On the contrary, I suspect that if I were to be welcoming whatsoever, you would take it as an invitation to stay."

McCoy huffs, and Spock knows he's right.

"Maybe I'm here for a reason. Ever think of that?"

"No."

McCoy frowns but doesn't reply. He simply stares dead ahead, forehead wrinkled, and ignores Spock until, after nearly ten minutes of Silence, Spock mentally sighs.

"There is an extra set of clothes in the cart directly behind me," he says, reluctantly giving in. "You may use them for the time being."

McCoy nods and leisurely reaches back and grabs the bag with Spock's spare clothes.

"I expect you to wear them all," Spock instructs, to which McCoy grunts something suspiciously like, "Humans."

In the end, he has to roll the shirt's sleeves and bottom of the leggings. The boots at least seem to fit him, but the rest hangs loosely on his shorter frame.

"Make a short joke," McCoy says, tone flat. "I dare you."

"I would not dream of it," Spock assures him. Jokes based on appearance have never appealed to him. Height can no more be controlled than pointed ears.

McCoy hums and, pacified, makes himself comfortable beside Spock, having apparently decided to stick around indefinitely.

 

**_xx_ **

 

McCoy quickly proves more useful than he seemed at first. Enterprise tripped over a hole in the road not long after McCoy joined and would have taken lame, or worse, had McCoy not gotten out and runs his hand down her leg. Instantly, she perked up.

"Healing is easiest," he says as he climbs back onto the cart. "So long as the limb is mostly intact, it's just a matter of encouraging the body to do what it naturally wants to do."

He also does something to the wheels so they don't chip on the rough, rocky roads. Then he pulls apples out of thin air on a slow day, presenting Spock's to him with a flourish.

"I still do not trust you," Spock says, even as he accepts the apple.

McCoy just smiles blandly up at him. "You're a funny kinda man, Mr. Spock."

 

**_xx_ **

 

They argue constantly. Usually it's over philosophical differences.

"That's not how humans are intended to live!" McCoy hisses. "Are you insane?"

"A life without distractions-"

"Is a damn short one since you'd kill yourself after a month!"

"I disagree."

"Of course you do."

Sometimes it's over other, smaller things.

"It's just a cold, Mr. McCoy."

"The hell it is!"

"Raising your voice does not make your point more compelling, nor your opinion more welcome."

"Spock, I swear-"

"I am fine," Spock says, though that isn't entirely true. He feels off-kilter. Uncertain. McCoy has been pushing at him from the moment he manifested in Spock's cart. Yet here he is, acting almost tender as he lays the back of his hand against Spock's forehead.

"You're burning up," he says gruffly. "I knew we should have stayed over in that town."

"It wasn't safe," Spock says, shaking his head.

McCoy frowns, so Spock elaborates. "I'm a Northerner. We are rarely welcome in this part of the world."

McCoy shakes his head. "I thought you were past that infantile idea."

"Do you not take the form of a Southerner?" Spock points out.

"I don't choose my 'form'," McCoy says with a shake of his head. "I was born to this body, same as you were to yours."

That's news to Spock. "You were born?"

"Sure I was. And I'll tell you all about it- if you agree to put on another blanket."

"I do not require further warmth," Spock informs him.

"Then you don't require my birth story. It's a shame, because it's actually quite fascinating."

Spock knows the word choice is intended to rile him. Instead, he finds himself smiling.

 

**_xx_ **

 

Not only is McCoy useful for guarding the guard and Enterprise, but he also gives Spock an extra layer of security as he conducts his business.

"They really didn't get over it," Leonard says as they walk away from a vender who was particularly vocal about his dislike of Northerners. "I was so sure they'd get past this..."

Spock shrugs. There's nothing to be said here. Not even "I told you so." He almost pities McCoy. He's been isolated in the woods for so long, he's lost touch with the world.

 

**_xx_ **

 

They're sleeping in luxury tonight. Spock, with McCoy's help, managed a number of highly profitable trades. To celebrate- and to calm McCoy's growing insistence that Spock stop sleeping outside in the cold- the two of them are sharing a room in an inn. Enterprise is spending the night in a proper stable, and the cart is safe in a barn.

There is only one bed, but they're used to sleeping beside each other in the back of the cart. It's no problem for them to scoot a couple inches closer, pressing their bodies together from shoulder to hip until McCoy turns over in his sleep.

He throws his arm over Spock's belly, and Spock... doesn't mind.

****

**_xx_ **

 

The cart gets destroyed during the night. It's obvious that it was done by one of the men who works for the inn. Spock accepts the owners' weak apologies and compensation, fully prepared to move on.

McCoy is not. He shouts and makes a scene. He drags other people in. He demands to know if this behavior would go unpunished if it were their belongings being trashed.

His eyes are alight, and eventually, the other people make it clear that more is owed to Spock than was originally paid.

An hour later, with Enterprise hitched to a new cart, they leave the town behind. McCoy's mood remains prickly.

Spock hesitantly puts a hand on his shoulder. He expects to be snapped at. Instead, McCoy leans into his touch.

"They should be kinder to you," he says softly. "Can't they see you're lonely?"

Spock freezes, a lie on the tip of his tongue. He bites it back instead. "I am not unhappy," he says haltingly.

McCoy shakes his head. "'Not unhappy' and 'happy' are different things, Mr. Spock. I'd think you of all people would know the difference."

Spock does know the difference. He feels it keenly.

 

**_xx_ **

 

McCoy kisses him.

They're arguing, again, and Spock is getting close to feeling actual anger when McCoy leans in close and presses their lips together.

The anger immediately subsides, replaced by confusion. He doesn't kiss back, wouldn't know how even if he thought he should.

It isn't a long kiss. McCoy pulls away after a moment, his eyes dark as he glances up at Spock.

"I do not know what that was intended to do, but my point remains-"

"Fuck's sake, Spock. It was a kiss. The intent is right there in the name."

"Yes, but-"

"I think you're interesting, in a frustrating way," McCoy says, glowering up at a Spock. "You're attractive. You're intelligent. You care about people. You even care about me. So yeah, I wanted a kiss. Here's the real question. What are you gonna do about it?"

Spock swallows. "I do not know."

"D'you wanna kiss me back maybe?"

"...I do."

"But...?"

Spock feels himself blush. "But I never learned how," he admits quietly.

McCoy takes his face in his hands. "The let me teach you."

The second kiss is softer than the first, and Spock wishes desperately that there were something he could read to understand this. A book or a pamphlet maybe. Something, anything, so he wouldn't feel so lost.

Then he feels McCoy's tongue slide against his lips. He opens his mouth to ask why but is cut off by the strange feeling of McCoy's tongue sliding over his own.

He tries to mimic the motion, though it feels awkward. McCoy only makes an encouraging noise and shuffles closer, so Spock assumes he's doing something right.

McCoy takes a hand off Spock's face and slides it through the hair at the back of Spock's head. He takes his tongue back- Spock suddenly finds his mouth is too big- and murmurs against Spock's lips, "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Spock opens his eyes- when did he close them?- and shakes his head. "No, Mr. McCoy. It wasn't bad at all."

"You know, you ought to call me Leonard."

"Am I allowed to address a god by his first name?"

"Don't sass me when you've just had my tongue on your mouth."

Spock runs his tongue over his lips, chasing the taste McCoy left behind. "I'd like to do it again."

"Oh, you would, would you?"

Spock nods, and McCoy, for once, complies.

**Author's Note:**

> embarrassing as this is to admit, the plot for this comes from my anime obsessed days. so, uh, s/o to _spice and wolf_


End file.
